


It's the words you choke on that matter the most

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words are dancing on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be set free. Dean can feel them burning the back of his throat whenever he tries to swallow them down again, whenever he wants so much to let them loose but manages to remind himself at the last second why it would be a dreadful idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the words you choke on that matter the most

The words are dancing on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be set free. Dean can feel them burning the back of his throat whenever he tries to swallow them down again, whenever he wants so much to let them loose but manages to remind himself at the last second why it would be a dreadful idea.

Sometimes, he thinks that it is this that will be the death of him. Thinks that one day, when he closes his teeth and clenches his jaw to keep them from spilling out, he’ll choke.

_Cas, I love you._

Sometimes, he thinks that it wouldn’t be worth it.

Except it would. It would be worth it. Because choking would be so much better than having to listen to the angel’s apologies for not feeling the same, so much better than having to watch the pity bloom in those eyes.

To tell the truth, Dean is surprised Castiel doesn’t know yet. Everyone seems to. He must be transparent as hell, staring after the angel in a way that Sam had on multiple occasions described as lovesick.

Or maybe he does. Maybe the angel does know, has known since forever, and didn’t say anything because he didn’t feel the same.

And it’s almost funny. After spending years and years distancing himself from others (because who would expect a hunter to be able to form a healthy romantic relationship?), he falls in love with an angel of all things. After being so careful to not form any “profound bonds”, he goes and fucks it up by falling for the most unattainable being in the universe.

He laughs, low and bitter, smiling in a way that can only be described as self-deprecating.

“Cas… I love you.” he says aloud, testing out the words on his tongue. They sit comfortably in his mouth, as if it were fate that he would somehow end up pronouncing them.

Another low chuckle, just as harsh as the last one, escapes. Dean let’s himself fall back down on his bed, resting his arms beneath his head. He stares up at the ceiling of his room. What he would give right now for a bottle of whisky.

Someone clears their throat, and he bolts upwards, alert, poised to attack, until he realizes it’s just Cas.

“How long have you been here.” he snaps, defensive, _scared_.

Castiel’s eyes bore into his in that unnerving way. Dean feel like squirming, feels like breaking eye contact, feels as if Castiel can read into his very soul. The silence is tense.

Finally, it’s Castiel that speaks first. His voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine, the almost whispered words ringing out loud and clear.

“You were praying. I hear you.”

For a moment, Dean doesn’t understand.

And then he does, and all he can feel is mortified.

“So what?” he asks, trying for a challenging tone but failing miserably.

Castiel takes a few steps forwards, moves so that he’s near the foot of the bed and Dean stands up, because if he’s gonna get yelled at, it’s not gonna be while he sits passively and takes it.

“You were praying.” Cas says again. “You said you loved me.”

Dean swallows, holds his chin up higher. They’re face to face now, and despite being taller, the hunter feels small, insignificant. And maybe that’s how Castiel sees them, humans, as tiny insects that die in a heartbeat. That must be how Castiel sees them. He’s an angel of the Lord, a celestial being that as existed since practically the dawn of time.

“Of course I love you.” Dean says gruffly. “We’re family.”

“Don’t lie to me, Dean Winchester.”

Castiel’s eyes are dangerous, glinting like a blade reflecting the moonlight in the dead of night, and Dean is afraid for a moment, a split second.

And suddenly, Cas is pulling his forwards by his collar and Dean flinches, awaiting a fist of some other kind of violent outburst.

Instead, he gets soft, dry lips covering his own and fingers combing through his hair.

The sound he makes is close to a whimper, lost in the juxtaposition of their bodies. He feels a little dizzy, wondering if this is actually happening, if this truly could be real and not merely a dream.

He opens his eyes when they part. Castiel has a faint smile dancing on his lips, soft and happy and Dean wants to kiss him again, wants it so much that he knees almost buckle.

“I love you too.” Cas murmurs into the inch separating them.


End file.
